


Meddling with Time

by chirusse



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Harry Potter & Severus Snape Friendship, Marauders' Era, Slytherin Harry, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-17
Updated: 2012-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-11 17:54:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chirusse/pseuds/chirusse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry goes back to the Marauder Era via forced time travel and has to find his was back. He decides to hide in Slytherin House, and meets his new roommates; Mulciber, Avery, and Snape. How will he get back? And how will his relationship with Snape develop?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It happened in an instant. One moment, Harry was glaring at his hated Potions Professor, who was berating Neville on his "apparent vacuous skull" and "complete lack of marginal talent in any subject area," when there was a splash. Neville had accidentally dropped his wristwatch into his base for the Exploding Potion they were brewing that day. The next moment, Harry was covered in green liquid, and felt a familiar tug behind his navel, not unlike the pull of apparition.

Harry's head knocked against something solid, and a second later he realized it was a patch of grass. He sat up and rubbed the back of his head.  _Wait a moment. Grass? I was just in the dungeons when…_  Neville had exploded his potion on him. Not only that, but the potion had been contaminated. Harry looked around, only to see the Hogwarts castle, as it always had been.

_Something's wrong. Why did Neville's potion take me out to the Hogwarts grounds?_  Harry stood and righted himself. There were no students about, though it was probably because the bell signaling the end of the period had not rung yet. Harry sprinted up the path to the castle, and down the staircase to the dungeons.  _Great, I can't wait to hear Snape's response to this. What will it be this time, 10, 15 points?_

But before Harry could open the door to the Potion's classroom, he noticed something funny. Something was definitely different about the castle, something that could not have been changed in the course of ten minutes.  _Perhaps I should go to the loo and splash some water on my face,_ Harry thought.  _The explosion must have messed with my head or something._

The boy's bathroom was also changed. Harry couldn't put his finger on it, but the castle almost seemed brighter than before. And then he heard a voice he had only dreamed about, just outside the door of the loo.

"Padfoot! In here, quick, or Filch'll catch us skipping!"

It was then that Harry put the pieces together. Neville's watch, the exploding potion; somehow it had sent him back in time. Back to a time when James Potter still attended Hogwarts. Harry's first impulse was to run out of the bathroom to see his father, but then a soft voice of reason that only could have rubbed off from Hermione said, " _Harry, you look just like James. What would happen if he saw you?"_ Harry knew that meeting his father like this would not end well. He scurried into a stall and pulled his feet up onto the toilet seat.

"Oi, Prongs, I told you to take the cloak with us if we're gonna skip class!" James laughed, and Harry peeked through the crack of the stall door to watch his father and godfather.

"Yeah, and risk Snape finding it? He was watching us this morning. Pretty annoying, having his ugly face behind you whenever you turn around." Sirius slapped James on the back.

"No really though, Prongs. Why'd you want to meet up in private?"

"I've got a great new hex I wanted to show you. Saw a group of Ravenclaws do it on some Hufflepuff, so I asked what it was. Watch this!" James drew his wand and flicked it; Sirius was lifted in the air upside down, as if being held by his ankles.

"Oi, alright that's great, now put me down!" Sirius shouted, and with another flick went tumbling to the tiles.

"The incantation's  _Levicorpus_." James chuckled. "Can't wait to use it on Snivelly, can you?"

Harry saw Sirius smile darkly, "Excellent, James," and the pair exited the bathroom.

Harry now knew that he had a problem. He didn't know how to return to the future, which meant he had to stay here, in his father's time for a while. Which meant that Harry had to blend in, because he couldn't be noticed by anyone in the future. Which meant Harry had to not be connected with James Potter, Lily Evans, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, or Snape. And Harry needed to find someone intelligent enough to get him a reverse time-turner. Or break into the Ministry of Magic.

Blending in was not something that Harry was used to. All his life he had been pointed out in crowds, and now he had to be virtually invisible?

"I'm screwed," Harry muttered.

But first, he needed a place to stay to at least attempt to lay low. The Gryffindor dormitory was out of the question; he would be definitely recognized as somehow related to James or Lily. Another voice rang in his ear, one that he had heard only once, very long ago.

" _You could be great you know. And Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness…"_

Although Harry was not keen to choosing Slytherin as his "hidey-hole," it was better suited for him than Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. Harry was sure he would stick out easily to the Ravenclaws, who were much too clever for their own good, and the Hufflepuffs would surely grow tired of Harry's temper. The teenage Snape of this time could potentially become an issue for him, but Harry figured if he left Snape alone, Snape wouldn't sniff around in this personal life. Besides, no one from the past… or future… would connect Slytherin with the Harry Potter of the 1980's. But how would he get robes and a tie?

Harry sat on the toilet seat and prodded through his mind for a possible solution. He could try to nick some from the laundry like Hermione did in second year, but someone would notice him wearing their robes; he could order some, but that would take time; or he could transfigure his current robes slightly and order new ones depending on how long this might take.  _Which might be forever,_ Harry thought grimly.

And then came the subject of actually entering the House.  _It's full of future Death Eaters, I can't just waltz in thinking they'll accept me._ Harry rubbed his face with his hands and let out a frustrated sigh.  _Okay, I'll tell them that I've been homeschooled until now. If they figure out my robes have been transfigured, I'll tell them they're second-hand and I didn't have enough money to buy more. Right. Okay. I think I can do this._

Harry tentatively pushed open the stall and undid his tie and robes. Pointing his wand, he muttered a spell that Professor McGonagall had taught them in one of Harry's earlier years, just a simple color changing spell. He ripped off the Gryffindor insignia on the breast of the garment and shrugged.  _I'll just tell them I haven't received a house badge yet, that my sorting was private… or something like that._

The bell signaling the end of class rang, and Harry exited the boy's loo into a crowd of hyped up teenagers. There was a group of Gryffindor girls ahead of him, and Harry struggled to gather some sort of information as to the time of day, or where he should be going with the Slytherins.

"Did you see Sirius go to Herbology?"

"No, he usually passes us in the corridor. He must have been off skipping class!" A girl giggled and did a little jump. Harry wasn't sure how to feel about hearing someone speak this way about his godfather.

"What does it even matter? He doesn't look at you! He always smiles at me…"

"Ugh, shut up! He obviously looks at me! Once he even winked!"

Harry contemplated just abandoning this clearly futile mission at gathering information. Although he felt especially like a Slytherin for spying on these girls as they walked.

"Let's just ask him then, which one of us he likes better!" One of the girls stamped her foot and put her hands on her hips.

"Hey! What are you doing? Are you listening in on our conversation?" Harry looked up at the girl in blank horror.

"No. I was just wondering…"  _Think Harry think!_ "I wanted to know…"

"Yes?" The girl snapped impatiently, tapping her foot on the ground and crossing her arms. Her friend narrowed her eyes and looked at Harry up and down.

"What's a Slytherin student doing following us around?" She questioned harshly. Harry winced and wondered if he sounded this way when speaking to the Slytherin students.

"I wanted to know… the time!" Harry declared, hoping the girls wouldn't question him further.

"It's the break before dinner. Duh." The girl punctuated the last syllable with certain finality.

"Yes, of course… Thanks." Harry nodded, turned around promptly, and began to walk as swiftly as possible away.

_Well that went well,_ Harry thought,  _now I'll be known as the Slytherin Stalker in the Gryffindor girl's dormitory._   _But I have a worse problem._ He stopped.  _I've got to find the Slytherin Common Room. And figure out the password._

Harry tried to remember the path he and Ron took with Malfoy back in second year to the Slytherin common room. It was known that the portrait hole was in the dungeons, but Harry could not recall any paintings or sculptures that might serve as landmarks. Of course, he could always wait until dinner, but that would take another hour, and Harry did not feel like wandering the castle or hiding in the loo again.

The dungeon level of the castle was the coldest floor of Hogwarts. Harry couldn't imagine how people could live in this damp air, and shivered when the chilly air clung to his clothes and seeped through his bony frame.

"I hope the Head of House is at least a bit more pleasant than Snape," Harry muttered as he scanned the corridors for any sign of students. "Though it doesn't matter much, huh? I'll be living with Snape for as long as I'm stuck here." He shuddered at the thought that he would have to share the same intimacy with Snape as he did with Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean.

"Hey! You there!" Harry looked around for the owner of the voice.

"Hey!" A slight boy in green Slytherin robes peered from around a corner. His head appeared to be poking out of a crevice in the wall that Harry had not seen earlier. Harry noted a shiny letter "P" on the boy's robes.

"What are you doing wandering around like that? Get over here." Harry obeyed.

"Sorry," Harry answered.

The boy picked Harry apart with his eyes before saying, "Fifth year?" He gestured at the stripe pattern on Harry's tie.

"You look awfully familiar. What's your name again?"

_Crap._  Harry hadn't thought of this yet.

"It's Harold. Harold…" Harry paused to think of a name that would not raise any suspicion in the future. "Harold Dudley. But people just call me Harry," he blurted.

The prefect stared at him with a calculating look.

"How come I haven't seen you before?"

"I've been homeschooled. Parents didn't have enough money to afford Hogwarts until now. " Harry tried to make this seem casual, but underneath his robes he was sweating bullets. The prefect stared at him for another moment and then smirked.

"Alright then. Welcome to Slytherin House, Harry. The password's  _Ball Python,_  don't forget it. You need it to enter the common room. We look out for our own in Slytherin, so don't worry too much about yourself. For every Gryffindor who tries to hex you, there's five of us willing to back you up. House loyalty, Harry, it's real important here. Got it?" Harry nodded his head.

"Good." The prefect led Harry into the passage way and then into a room filled with dark leather furniture and a wall that looked out into the depths of the Black Lake. Harry couldn't stop himself from smiling at the memory of Ron and him sneaking in to get information from Malfoy. The prefect noticed his smile.

"Yeah, it's pretty great in here. The other Houses don't have anything nearly as cool as an underwater common room. Anyways, your dormitory is to the left, separated by year. Fifth years are closer to the end of the corridor. Your roommates should be back there. Dinner's in a bit." The prefect jerked his head once to signify the end of their conversation, and went to the back of the common room where he disappeared from Harry's view.

The corridor that led to the boys' dormitories was dim and shades of pine illuminated the walls. Harry found his dormitory near the end of the hall marked by a silver number five. He opened the door and was greeted by two blank stares, and immediately Harry felt his survival sense go off. These two would be a piece of work. One of them squinted at him and stood. He may have been Harry's age, but the difference in size between them was colossal.

"Who're you?" He questioned, and Harry was beginning to think he should have just gone to Hufflepuff.

"Harold Dudley," Harry said a bit shakily, "Just call me Harry. I've just transferred here. Parents homeschooled me." Harry felt more confident in his story than when he spoke with the prefect.

"Homeschooled?" The boy narrowed his eyes into slits and focused on Harry's chest. "Where's your badge?" He pointed at Harry's breast where ordinarily a house crest was sewn on.

"Haven't gotten one yet," Harry explained.

"And where is your trunk?" The other boy added.

Harry hadn't thought of that.

"It's being brought up soon." Harry racked his brain for the quickest answer. "My parents sent it… a bit late." He made a mental note to transfigure something into a trunk, or go to the Room of Requirement after dinner.

The boy who was standing pointed at an empty bed across from Harry.

"You sleep there," Harry did not object. He sat down on the bed and loosened his tie.

"I'm Avery," the boy who was standing said, "and that's Mulciber." He jerked his head in the direction of the other boy. Harry pricked his ears at the familiar names and knew he had heard them somewhere.

"We've got another roommate, but he's probably in the library."

Harry could guess who it was.

"His name's Snape."

_Bingo._

"He's alright. Just don't be on the receiving end of his curses." Avery laughed, and it was a throaty, nasty laugh, like someone had fallen victim to a practical joke.

"Thanks for the tip," Harry said scathingly, and cut him off.

Avery's lip twitched, but said no more and turned back to Mulciber. Harry closed the olive curtains of his four-poster as a wordless statement of, "Don't even try to talk to me." He didn't like this lot. He couldn't remember exactly where he had heard these names, but he was sure it not a good memory.

There was some commotion outside the bed curtain, and Harry heard an all-too familiar voice.

"Mulciber. I told you that I hate when you leave your trunk on my bed." Teenage Snape's voice was still a whisper, but far less of a baritone than his older counterpart.

There was some shuffling and Harry heard teenage Snape speak again.

"Who is in there?"

"Some new kid named Dudley. A bit anti-social." Avery laughed again, and Harry cringed, already hating the sound. "A bit like you."

Harry could almost hear the sneer in Snape's voice.

"Really."

Harry's bed curtains were pushed aside, and he was face-to-face with a fifteen-year-old Snape. Something changed in Snape's face, from curious to livid, and Harry recognized it as the special expression the Potion's Master reserved just for him.

"POTTER!"

Harry almost forgot this Snape wouldn't know who he was in this time. He almost answered back; "Yes Professor?" but Harry held his tongue.

"Potter?" Mulciber repeated.

"YES! Look at him! It's Potter!" Snape was snarling. He pulled his wand out and pointed it at Harry's jugular.

Harry quickly shifted through his robes, pulled out his own wand, and pointed it back at Snape. Snape stared at it and stepped back. He recognized it as different than James'. Harry did not lower his wand. Experience had taught him that Snape was not one to be trusted, especially with his wand in hand and Harry in front of him.

Snape was squinting, as if looking straight through Harry, and Harry remembered the Occlumency lessons with older Snape.  _He can read my mind._ Harry broke their stance and stared somewhere else, settling his gaze on the tip of Snape's wand.

"I'd appreciate it if you would lower your wand," Harry hissed.

Mulciber and Avery were flicking their eyes expectantly between the two boys.

"You're a dead ringer for James Potter," Snape spat at Harry.

"Excuse me, who?" Harry retorted, making this up as he went along.

"Fifth year Gryffindor. Chaser. Heard of him?" Snape barked, apparently not believing that anyone could possibly not know of James Potter.

"Nope. Sorry," Harry replied, feeling as far away from 'sorry' towards Snape as possible.

Snape stepped back up to Harry and his eyebrows furrowed. Harry dared to look back up at Snape, and saw blank confusion in his eyes. Snape's pupils were shifting back and forth between Harry's irises.

"You're not him," Snape finally concluded. Harry let out a silent exhale.

"What was your name again?"

"Harold Dudley," Harry responded.

"Harold?" Snape drawled out.

"People call me Harry," Harry clarified. "I'd prefer that to my surname, really."

Snape squinted at Harry and sneered. "I'll call you 'Harry' when you prove your worth to us. For now, you're 'Dudley.'" Harry grit his teeth at the distasteful memory of his cousin. His temper flared. Why couldn't he just go along with Harry and make things so much easier?

One of the prefects yelled down the hall for dinnertime, and Mulciber, Avery, and Snape exited the dorm together, leaving Harry.  _Perfect. A chance to run to the Room of Requirement,_  Harry mused, and made sure the common room was empty before slipping out the passage way.

_Whoever thought up the idea of the Room of Requirement was a genius_ , Harry proclaimed, closing his eyes and thinking over and over,  _I need to fit into Slytherin house. I need books, a trunk, a House crest, anything I can get. I need help so I can get home. Please. I need to fit in here, to become virtually invisible._  He opened his eyes. A door appeared, and Harry opened it to find a small broom closet filled with a trunk and some textbooks.

"I love magic," Harry breathed, and pulled his new trunk down the corridor and back to the Slytherin dormitory.

Harry kept his head down at the breakfast table the next day; although in his mind he berated himself for nearly sitting at the Gryffindor table out of habit. He wanted to glance up to see if anyone was watching him, but he couldn't risk being noticed, especially since he had realized there was another problem.

Professor Dumbledore could not see Harry in this time. If he did, he would realize what happened in the future, and that would surely disrupt the delicate chain of events that were supposed to happen. Using this logic, Harry also realized he had to avoid McGonagall, Filch, Sprout, Flitwick, and Hagrid. On the other hand, he couldn't just skip classes, or the Slytherins would sense something was up with him. This was going to be a problem. The prefect from before noticed Harry sulking and pushed some bacon towards his plate.

"Eat," he commanded, "It'll calm down your nerves."

"Not hungry," Harry muttered, trying to smooth down his unruly hair. Harry then saw Snape squinting at him, and realized messing with his hair was reminiscent of James. But James was across the room, laughing with Sirius and Lupin, and Snape glanced back and forth between he and Harry.

"You know, if your hair won't stay down, you could try gelling it," the prefect offered. Harry looked up at him.  _That's not a bad idea. It would make me look less like myself,_ he realized, and jumped on this opportunity.

"Do you have any I can borrow?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Sure. I'll give you some before class. You can order more from the apothecary in Hogsmeade. Great for the hair. Makes it really soft," the prefect said, eating some oats.

Breakfast couldn't end soon enough for Harry, who was shoveling food in his mouth with an appetite that rivaled Ron Weasley.

The prefect was right; the gel in Harry's hair worked perfectly to hold it down, and Harry had nicked some blemish cover-up from a girl and applied it to his scar. Now Harry was even more disassociated from his father, and possibly with his future self. In fact, Harry was beginning to feel that he himself was being disassociated with his future self. The Slytherin common room was becoming almost comfortable to Harry.

Classes were more or less the same; the teachers did not point out Harry other than occasionally calling on him for an answer. Transfiguration was as difficult as always, Herbology was quite unchanged, and Defense Against the Dark Arts was taught by a scared little man who knew his year of employment would be over in a couple of months. Harry suspected Dumbledore had offered him something if he would take the job.

Potions was the last class of the day and Harry was dreading it. Worse still was that the Slytherins and Gryffindors would be together in the lesson. It was taught by the Head of Slytherin House, a large walrus of a man by the name of Horace Slughorn. Unfortunately for Harry, unlike Snape, Slughorn did not favor his Slytherin students, but he did in fact, favor talent and fame; both of which Harry was doing his best to avoid.

And just to put the delicious poisonous frosting on the arsenic cake, Harry was paired with Snape as his brewing partner.

"What are you doing, Dudley? I told you to powder the roots, not maim them," Snape snapped, and took a mortar from Harry.

"You know, you could be a bit more pleasant Snape. We are partners for the rest of the year, you know," Harry spat, and began to stir the contents of their cauldron.

"You dunderhead! You're ruining my perfect potion. Get out of the way!" Snape took Harry by the collar and shoved him back, checking the 'damage' Harry's two stirs had caused.

"Now look what you've done," Snape seethed, and pointed in the cauldron. Harry didn't see any difference in the potion from before.

"It looks fine," Harry insisted, crossing his arms and looking up at Snape, who was noticeably taller, but the same frame size as Harry. Harry could have probably taken Snape in a fight, and right now he was exerting a great amount of effort to not punch Snape in his oversized nose.

"It looks ruined, Dudley, that's what it looks like," Snape backfired.

Professor Slughorn came around the desk to see what the commotion was about. His belly swung around and almost knocked the cauldron over in the process. Snape looked as if the vein on his forehead was going to blow.

"Mr. Snape, Mr. Dudley, is there a problem?" Slughorn's mustache curled up into a smile.

"No," Harry answered, a bit sharply, and glared at Snape.

Snape was busy checking the brew and didn't see Harry's hateful stare.

Harry and Snape's relationship continued like this for most of the term, not that Harry minded. He was busy looking for ways to get home, and was quickly running out of options. The silence of the dormitory was better for him, better than trying to come up with crazy lies to explain himself. Mulciber, who asked Harry a question one night before bed, broke the comfortable silence.

"Dudley, what's your blood status?" He pressed.

"Half-blood," Harry answered, before he could stop himself.

Mulciber and Avery sat up in bed. Snape turned over, but Harry had a feeling he wasn't trying to go to sleep.

"What kind of half-blood? Mudblood-Pureblood? Half-Half?" Harry didn't like the way Avery was staring at him. Should he lie to them? Snape was still turned away, and Harry remembered how Snape could read minds. It would probably be futile in trying to cover up his blood status, Snape would tell them anyways.

"My mom was Muggle-born," Harry answered, and Mulciber looked revolted. "My father was Pureblood." Avery glanced at Mulciber and looked down.

"Mudbloods and filthy blood traitors. The scum of the earth," he muttered, but Harry heard it perfectly well. He drew his wand and pointed it at Mulciber.

"Say that again," he spat, "and I swear I'll hex you until all you've got left is Muggle blood." Mulciber laughed at this with crooked teeth. Snape had turned around and had his eyes locked on Harry. Harry looked at him. Something wasn't right with his face, like he was trying to understand something incomprehensible.

Harry sat back on his bed and shut the curtains. Just for good measure, he cast a  _Protego_  charm over himself. He didn't trust anyone in this room. They'd probably try and jinx him in his sleep. Was this always how Slytherin house was? Harry couldn't imagine how people would want to be sorted here. He turned over and tried to focus on something light-hearted, something that had nothing to do with his current position, but he couldn't. He lay awake, not daring to turn his back on his dorm mates.

Snape was eyeing Harry at breakfast the next day, and Harry was getting irritated to the point that he actually wanted to get up and talk to him.

"Is there something you need?" He questioned, after feeling black orbs bore into his skull for ten minutes. Snape snorted and scratched his nose.

"No. I was wondering," Snape's eyes smoldered, "how in the world someone like you managed to make it into Slytherin." Harry's eyes widened and he coughed.

"Excuse me? Someone like me? Are you trying to make a racial slur, Snape?"

"Pardon me, Dudley, but I was referring to the fact that you're a complete idiot. And your habit of jumping to conclusions makes me think you're better suited for Gryffindor than Slytherin." Snape's lip curled. Harry weighed this in his mind.

"Tell that to the Sorting Hat." It wasn't difficult to say. The Sorting hat did want to put Harry into Slytherin, but Harry chose Gryffindor. Would Harry have turned into someone like Snape if he had chosen Slytherin?

Snape eyed him curiously for a moment.

"You said something interesting earlier." Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Interesting?"

"You spoke of your parents in the past tense. Does that mean they're dead?" Snape's eyes were glittering, as if he had figured out something important. Harry swallowed his food thickly. He should have been more careful with his words.

"If they are, what does it matter to you?" Harry was a bit irate at Snape's perceptiveness.

"It means you lied about being homeschooled," Snape pointed out. "And if you lied, it means you have something to hide."

"I think, Snape, that everyone has something to hide." Harry cut him off before Snape could respond. He could feel Snape's gaze boring into him once again, and knew there would be more questions in Potions that afternoon.

Now that Harry had the chance to think about it, Snape as a teenager did not scare him. Without the threat of losing House points, or the authority as a teacher he held over Harry, all Snape had was his wand work going for him. And Snape the teenager was a fair match against Harry, even though he knew more curses than Harry liked to imagine.

"Dudley, hand me that flobberworm," Snape ordered, and brought Harry out of his dream-like trance.

Harry pulled up a particularly disgusting looking one. "This one?"

"No, you idiot," Snape hissed, "that one!" He pointed to a different worm that was slightly less disgusting than the first.

"Oh, right," Harry smiled, "that one. The one that looks exactly like the rest of them!" His patience with Snape was waning at an exponential rate.

"Incorrect," said Snape. "This one," He held up the worm in Harry's face, "is perfect." "That one," he pointed to Harry's worm, "is too ripe. Really, don't you know anything about Potions? Your old tutor can't have been that much of an idiot to fail to teach you which ingredients are best." Harry snorted and fought back laughter. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Something funny about that, Dudley?" He hissed.

"You have no idea," said Harry, gasping for breath.

"Why don't you just copy down the notes for us," Snape snarled, "as you're no good for any other use."

"Really Snape, we've been partners in this class for at least a month now. The least you could do is be civil," Harry countered.

"Oh? Coming from the cheerful chap who hasn't said a kind word to anyone since he got here? I don't think so." Snape's nostrils flared, like he had smelled something bad.

"You're the one who attacked me in the dormitory!" Harry argued, standing up and trying to restrain himself from pouring the cauldron over Snape. The vein in Snape's forehead flexed, threatening to pop, but Snape's face cleared.

"So I did, not without cause. You do not know Potter. My actions were necessary. " Snape turned around and did not speak again. Harry did not argue further.

Something Snape said stuck with Harry that evening. Harry hadn't been exactly kind to his housemates, or any of his classmates at that; he had just figured he would have found a way out of the past by now. But it seemed that he had been wrong. Harry couldn't find any way to return to the future, and it looked like he would be stuck here for a while. So for the time being, Harry was going to have to be polite to Snape.

OWLS were fast approaching in the term, and Harry was in a tizzy balancing time research and schoolwork. Defense Against the Dark Arts would be a breeze, as would Herbology, Charms, and Care of Magical Creatures. Harry was sure he would fail Divination and History of Magic. Astronomy wouldn't be too bad, as long as he could remember all the constellations. Potions was going to pose a problem for him though. Slughorn was an all right teacher, but having Snape as a partner caused Harry to feel like he would surely fail any attempt at potion making.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was scheduled for Monday afternoon, and Harry was feeling a bit shaky. Not because he had not studied, or because he had not practiced any of the spells, but because he knew a certain event was supposed to take place that afternoon. If it didn't happen, Harry would know that his existence in the past had caused some sort of disrupt in time.

The test was not difficult, at least the written part. Next week the practical half would be given, but Harry was not thinking about that. He was following Snape outside to the grounds and watched him find some shade. Harry chose a different tree to sit under and watch the events unfold.

Sirius got up out of the sun first, and stalked over to Snape. Harry saw him use the spell James had taught him in the boy's bathroom and watched as onlookers gathered and laughed. He saw Lily march up to James, and how he wanted to stop her. His dear sweet mother, he wanted to guard her from the awful word Snape used on her. Mudblood. Dirty blood. Scum of the earth. But Harry watched her walk away, and knew that the damage had been done.

Yet James and Sirius would not let up. Harry watched them lift Snape into the air again and exposed his underpants to the crowd, and suddenly it wasn't James, Sirius, or Snape that Harry saw, but Dudley and his friends laughing at Harry.

And Harry realized something. How different was Snape from him? The bullying was the same; only Snape had chosen fight over Harry's preferred flight. Harry's feelings of pity returned to him from when he first viewed this memory in Snape's pensieve. And then anger at Sirius and James for doing this, and frustration at Lupin, who allowed it to happen, and annoyance at Wormtail for egging them on, and understanding at Snape for lashing out, and maybe not forgiveness for using that word, but the beginnings of forgiveness. Truthfully, didn't he, himself lash out when he was angry?

"That's enough," Harry murmured, and stood up, wielding his wand. He pointed it at James and breathed a well-aimed  _Stupefy_. James went flying backwards and Sirius wildly looked around for the person responsible for the spell. Harry shrank back against the tree and hoped the years of hiding from Dudley in grade school had payed off.

The first thought that Harry had after this fiasco was that he was a complete idiot. He just attacked his father. And worse still, he protected a man that he was proud to proclaim his absolute hate for. Harry did not think about how is actions might have disrupted time until the crowd around Snape disappeared and Snape had pulled his robes back down.

Snape squinted in the general direction of Harry. He sauntered over, and Harry realized he might have made a big mistake. He could only imagine how Hermione would have nagged him,  _"You're supposed to be acting like a Slytherin, Harry! Slytherins think before they act! You can't just hex anyone who pisses you off at the drop of a hat!"_

"Why did you do that?" Snape questioned Harry, when he reached the shaded area and realized Harry was the one who casted of the curse. Snape's eyes narrowed and Harry was not sure how to answer.

"How did you know it was me?" Harry implored, with a slight smile.

"Don't insult me, I'm not as daft as Black. It is not difficult to figure out in what direction a spell was cast." Snape raised an eyebrow.

"You heard me call the girl a Mudblood, why aren't you angry?" Snape pressed.

"You didn't mean it," Harry answered, shaking his head and gazing out at the grounds. "I would have lashed out at someone as well."

"You don't understand," Snape muttered, "She was…" His voice trailed off and Harry did not ask him to finish.

"Just apologize to her," Harry shrugged. He started to walk away when he turned and said slowly, as if he were choosing each word very carefully, "See you back in the common room." Snape offered no reply.

" _Horrible things happen to wizards who meddle with time, Harry."_

"Shut up Hermione," Harry breathed.


	2. Chapter 2

Avery and Mulciber were already in the dorm when Harry returned. Swallowing the feeling of dread he received in their very presence, he nodded politely to them, sat on his bed, pulled off his shoes, and loosened his tie.

"Have you seen Snape around?" Avery asked. Harry shook his head.

"Haven't seen him," Harry said irritably. Avery and Mulciber exchanged a glance.

"You could be more friendly, Dudley." Mulciber swaggered over and Harry took one step back. He wasn't afraid, maybe intimidated; Mulciber cast a shadow over him that would have any sane person running.

"The term's almost over. We won't see you for a while." Avery was smiling again, and Harry wanted to take a brillo pad to those awful teeth.  _I'm hoping I won't see you again,_ Harry thought gleefully, but maintained his calm composure. One thing that Harry had picked up from so much time around Snape was how to mask some of his emotions. He wouldn't have lasted a week around his former Professor if he continued to show every ounce of annoyance he felt. The Gryffindor inside him fought it all the way, but anger was becoming much easier to hide.

"What a shame," Harry grit out, trying to get across that he did not feel like speaking. Avery stared at him.

"What are you going to do when you turn seventeen?" He inquired.

"Work for Gringotts," Harry lied. Mulciber smirked.

"I'm going work for You-Know-Who. Only a fool would oppose him now." Harry realized where he had heard their names _. These two are going to try to kill me one day._ His eyebrows furrowed, but he had learned a bit about the Slytherin game.  _They're testing me; they're trying to pick out my opinion of Voldemort. Well, can't tell them anything, can I?_

"Oh. Good for you then." Harry commented. Avery and Mulciber were not appeased. They tried to pick further.

"Aren't you going to join him?"

"No," Harry answered a little sharply.

"Then that makes you a fool." Mulciber gave him an odious smile. Harry didn't like where this was going, and he needed to get out, fast.

"I've just remembered, I've got to meet Snape in the library. He was going to show me a book to read for our Potions O.W.L. He's probably waiting there. See you after dinner." Harry exited the room briskly, and shuffled out the door. Someone in the common room grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Harry." It was the prefect. "Have you seen Severus? Someone tipped me off he's been sulking around the castle. I thought you might have seen him after your-"

"Sorry, can't talk, going to the library," Harry said, brushing him off and shifting through the passageway.

_Snape? Sulking? That's likely._  Harry could imagine the usually Stoic man having a temper tantrum, but completely pouting about something? What did he have to be so gloomy about? Harry shook his head and drifted along the corridors. Was he still angry with what James and Sirius had done to him?  _It could have been worse,_ Harry thought,  _I could have just let them keep going. Why did I even stop them? I don't recall Snape ever doing anything to my benefit._

Wait. What did he just say? The noble Gryffindor, keeping score between himself and Snape? Who owed the other a favor? When had he started doing that? Avery, Mulciber, and the rest of the Slytherins were getting to his head. He couldn't think things through as quick as he used to. He didn't know what to make of the Snape in this time. He was still harsh, but his biased hatred aimed at Harry was gone. Without that, he was tolerable, and Harry didn't think he could deal with that. He had almost counted on Snape's behavior being his anchor; it would have reminded him of home, of where he was supposed to be.

Now he didn't have anything. In fact, Harry wanted to stay more than ever. Having Potions class with the Gryffindors allowed him to see his parents, something even the Mirror of Erised could not compete with. He desperately wanted to speak to them; it was pure torture to have them so close, like dangling a piece of steak in front of a hungry dog on a shock collar. Maddening.

Harry turned a corner and saw a large gingham blob rummaging through a small storage closet. He recognized the door from his fourth year, when Snape had interrogated him over stolen ingredients, and then threatened Harry with Veritaserum. Realizing this was his Potions Professor, Slughorn, he was about to say hello when another figure entered into view. It was Professor McGonagall, apparently in a dispute with Harry's Head of House.

"I am telling you Horace, there is something strange going on," Professor McGonagall said.

"Now Minerva, the boy has not done anything out of the ordinary to have us suspect foul play. I'm sure there is a logical explanation for this."

"No, Horace. When the Ministry alerted me about his O.W.L. I spoke with the Headmaster and did some research of my own. Albus had no information of the boy in any of the student files, there was no mention of any 'Harold Dudley" in our record book, and furthermore, there was not a scrap of evidence as to letters being written or sent to the boy's family about Hogwarts!" Harry shrank back behind the door with these words.

"We are going to have to confront him Horace," McGonagall insisted. "The boy is in your House, bring him to the Headmaster at once!" Harry's breathing hitched at her statement. He backed away and bolted down the corridor. Hogwarts was no longer safe for him.

_No time to go back to the common room._ Harry's thoughts were frantic, and he didn't know where in the world he was running.  _The others think I'm in the library. Good. Unless Snape shows up. Not good. That could be any minute. I've got to hide somewhere._ He thought of the Room of Requirement, but quickly shot down the idea.  _If someone needs it, they wouldn't be able to access it. I'll have it blocked for my own use._  He could always use the passageway by the one-eyed witch out to Hogsmeade to buy him some time. He heard some footsteps down the corridor and made up his mind that he didn't have much of a choice. He ran to the 3rd level of the castle.

" _Dissendium_ ," Harry whispered when he had reached the statue of the one-eyed witch. The hump on the witch opened and revealed a slide that fed into a tunnel that Harry knew led to Hogsmeade. From here, in about an hour on foot, Harry could reach the cellar of Honeydukes and then work out the rest of his plan out the castle.


	3. Chapter 3

If it was pity Harry felt for Sirius in third year while he was hiding from the dementors, he now felt complete empathy. Harry was nearly desolate in his current state. He had taken a part-time job working for Mr. Mulpepper's Apothecary in Knockturn Alley, but all he could do was sweep up and restock the shelves. He would have preferred a job in Diagon Alley, but since his discovery at Hogwarts and the start of summer break, he was afraid someone from the school would recognize him.

Mr. Mulpepper was kind enough, although Harry didn't like the kind of people who came into the shop. Even some of the potions ingredients stocked were different than the shop in Diagon Alley, and Harry suspected some of them might be slightly illegal, but he didn't say anything to Mr. Mulpepper. Harry figured he had already stretched his luck enough when he begged for the job; he was hired without having any credentials.

Today he was asked to deliver a package of snake fangs to one of the buyers, but Harry knew this was a code for delivering something else. Because delivering illegal potion ingredients by owl risked detection by the Ministry, who could stop the owl and trance it back to Mr. Mulpepper, Harry was asked to take the more expensive or illegal ingredients himself, disguised, of course. Today he was taking a vial of unicorn blood inside the sack of snake fangs to a house in Cokeworth. Harry wasn't allowed to apparate, so Mr. Mulpepper had given him some money to use the Knight Bus.

Stan Shunpike wasn't working the Knight Bus as conductor yet, but Ernie Prang was still the driver. A middle-aged woman who might have been Ernie's wife greeted Harry instead. The neon-purple bus skidded through the streets and within a few minutes Harry was in a run-down town with a worn sign that read "Cokeworth."

"Here you are dear," the lady said.

"Thank you," Harry replied, and stepped off the bus.

Mr. Mulpepper had scribbled the address of their buyer on a piece of paper for Harry, as well as directions to the street.

_"Past a river; has abandoned mill."_  Harry glanced up. The river was filthy, with trash strewn all along the bank. He saw the mill, which loomed over the town, and dark polluted clouds cast a veil over the stars.  _"16 Spinner's End, Cokeworth"_ Harry walked down the streets until he found shabby old road sign that labeled the next street "Spinner's End." He counted the houses down until he got to Number 16.

Harry reached to ring the bell when he heard glass smashing inside the house, then a man shouting. He instinctively reached for his wand when the door opened. It was Snape. His eyes flicked to the package in Harry's hands, then to Harry's wand, and shut the door behind him.

"Follow me and put that away," He hissed and gestured at the wand. Harry did so, and followed him.  _Snape lives in a place like this? What was that crashing going on in his house?_ Harry stared at the back of Snape as they marched back to the dirty river. He was wearing a Muggle sweater and trousers that looked quite out of place on him. Harry couldn't recall any time he had seen Snape wearing Muggle clothes. At the banks of the river, Snape turned to Harry.

"You are here to deliver my ingredients?" Harry nodded and handed him the pouch of snake fangs. Snape opened it and peered inside for the unicorn blood.

"How much do I owe you?"

"Three Galleons." Snape looked as though he was going to choke.

"For this much?" He questioned, his voice rising and color coming into his face. Harry knew the blood was pricey, he had seen the vial inside the pouch and it had maybe five milligrams of the substance.

"Its hard to come by," Harry reasoned. "Three Galleons."

Snape sighed and rummaged through his pockets. He pulled out some silver Sickles and a few Knuts and began counting. His forehead creased.

"Is it possible to pay the rest later?" Snape seemed to be slightly embarrassed with his dilemma in front of Harry. It had never crossed Harry's mind that Snape might be poor. Hanging around Lucius Malfoy and the Death Eaters, Harry had always assumed that Snape was just like them, a rich, racist pureblood supremacist. And yet here he was, shamefully counting change to buy some potion ingredients. It woefully, yet fondly, reminded Harry of Ron.

"You don't have to… I mean, I can help," Harry offered.

"I don't need your charity," Snape snapped. "It's just that I don't carry wizard money on me all the time."

"We can go back to get-"

"There's no use in that. We can't go in there right now." Harry wasn't exactly sure how he should respond.

"Your parents?" He let Snape interpret the question in whatever way he wanted. Snape looked over to the town and nodded twice.

"Is there a place to go and talk?" Harry asked, trying to offer his companionship to the young man.

"I know a place," Snape answered simply. "But it's just to pass the time. It's not like we're…"

"Friends?" Harry couldn't help but grin. Snape stared at him and raised an eyebrow.

"I don't need friends," Snape said as they began walking, him leading Harry again. "If you don't have friends, you won't have anyone to let you down."

"If you don't have friends, you won't have anywhere to be let down from," Harry countered. He and Snape sat down on a dingy bench overlooking the river.

"You didn't have friends at Hogwarts." Snape said, after considering Harry's argument.

"Whose to say I don't? And why'd you put that in the past tense?" Harry laughed. Snape looked at Harry strangely, and Harry thought it might be an expression he hadn't seen on Snape's face before: genuine happiness.

"At least you've learned something from me. I'd hoped it would be something in Potions, rather than logic, but I'll take what I can get from a dunderhead like you." The corner of Snape's mouth twitched, like he was trying not to smile.

"Seriously though," Harry pressed.

"Slughorn confronted me the evening after the Defense O.W.L.; He said that you were to report to the Headmaster's office immediately. I went back to the dormitory, but Avery and Mulciber said you had gone to the library, said you had promised to meet me there. I knew you hadn't, of course. That, paired with the bit about the Headmaster? You had to be in trouble. When you didn't come back for the O.W.L. the next day I knew something was up. So tell me, Dudley, what's up?" Snape turned to Harry and their eyes met, black trying to pierce green.

"I can't go back," Harry said, taking caution with his word choice and trying to shield any thoughts Snape might see.

"Obviously, Dudley. Now, why is that?" Snape implored.

"Why is it that you can't go home?"

"I do not feel the liberty or the desire to say."

"Well then, there is your answer," Harry answered coolly. He was growing exasperated at their conversation, which was going in circles.

"I thought friends told each other their secrets," Snape said after a few moments.

"I thought we weren't friends." Snape did not recoil at this, but seemed to disapprove of the statement.

"That is what I said, though you seemed to think differently."

"You said you didn't want to be friends."

"I said I did not need friends."  _Ah._ Harry had hit a nerve.

"But you want them," Harry responded, smiling at Snape and letting his eyes reflect the emotion. Snape looked away and did not speak.  _You do, you great git,_ Harry thought,  _just admit it. You want a friend. Is it so awful to say?_

"I had a friend. I screwed it up." Snape finally admitted.

"You can't really 'screw up' friendships. You're supposed to forgive one another. That's part of being friends, you work through problems. You can't just let them sit and stew." Harry felt strange giving this sort of advice to his future teacher.

"I won't be forgiven for this. I did someth-"

"Then you keep hoping for forgiveness! They can't hate you forever!" Harry had jumped up from the bench and was practically yelling at Snape. The melancholy was driving him insane.  _No wonder he grows up into that greasy dungeon bat! If he keeps moping around about things like this, he'll never be strong enough for Voldemort! He'll be killed before he even takes the Dark Mark!_

"One day they'll have to accept your forgiveness! Just let them alone and they'll come out of it, I promise you." Harry had grabbed Snape's shoulders and was staring him straight in the eye.

"I suppose I can-"

"Yeah, good. You can." Harry sat back down and crossed his arms. Snape was looking at him like one would a ward of an insane asylum.

The pair did not speak again for a while.

"I have to go," Harry announced after some time. "Mr. Mulpepper wanted me to come back as soon as possible, and I've stayed too long."

"You will not be at school in the fall." Snape wasn't asking a question.

"No. I'm not supposed to be there. I could get into big trouble," Harry answered.

"Then, you should know…" Snape was tracing his lip with his finger. "Take care."

Harry smiled and waved goodbye.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hatred, by a gradual and quiet process, will even be transformed to love, unless the change be impeded by a continually new irritation of the original feeling of hostility." – Nathaniel Hawthorne; The Scarlet Letter
> 
> Author's Note: The above quote is really what inspired this fan fiction. I had the idea a while back that Snape and Harry really could get along, if the obstacle of James was removed from Harry's "record" (so to speak).

Summer melted into fall.

Harry had deserted any hope of returning home. There were no reverse time turners, and enough reading had told him there was nothing in the Ministry to help him. Even if he went to explain his dilemma to the Ministry they would probably lock him up in the psych ward at Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. He was stuck. So Harry was making do with what he could. Mr. Mulpepper had allowed Harry to close up the shop sometimes, and even work filling orders for customers. Harry considered this a bit of a promotion from his previous assignment and was glad to see extra padding in his salary.

Snape had taken to occasionally writing Harry letters along with his orders for more ingredients, and Harry welcomed the variation to his everyday routine. Of course, he had to be secretive about sending letters back, lest someone from the school (or worse, the Ministry) got hold of one of the notes. The latest (although still two weeks old) read:

_D,_

_I hope work is treating you well. I am fair. And before you ask, A and M have not keeled over yet. Sorry. There is not much for me to write to you about._

_JP and SB are still, well, you know. And there is definitely something funny going on with their friend, RL. I know you've warned me to stay out of it, but I think it's something ghastly. You know my theories._

_Write back when you can._

_S_

After having a first hand account of James and Sirius' behavior around Snape, (for that was who the letter was speaking of) Harry was ashamed of them. If he were in the future, he'd give Sirius a good talking to. Snape wrote of them at least once a month, which was often, given the frequency of his letters; Harry was lucky to get one a week. Lately it was fewer than three letters a month, with the rise of the Dark Lord. The Ministry was starting to bypass more and more owls to check for information and contraband. Not to mention, Harry was mildly anxious over Snape trying to figure out what was wrong with Remus. It could be dangerous for him and Remus, as the Wolfsbane Potion had not been invented yet. Sometimes Snape was just a bit too curious for his own good.

Harry was restocking the shelves when Mr. Mulpepper's owl landed in the window. He had several notes tied to his legs, some orders from the customers, shipment receipts on orders, and another letter from Snape to Harry. He pocketed the note to read later and filed the shipment orders by urgency. Two of the notes asked for moonstone, picked as fresh as possible, bathed in the light of a full moon. Harry checked a chart Mr. Mulpepper kept under the counter for the cycles of the moon, and noted that these orders would need to be filled and shipped tonight.

Otherwise, business was slow that day. One of the herbologists that supplied the shop with Mandrake root dropped by with several boxes; Harry was asked to dry, powder, and bottle the ingredients. Glancing at his hands, he could understand the cause of Snape's yellowed fingers; Harry had almost given up trying to scrub off the stains that stuck to his hands. And then his eyes widened.  _You know,_  Harry thought,  _I could try replicating the potion Neville exploded on me to send me home. Although… there's not a good chance it would actually take me to the right time… Likely it'd send me further back. But it can't hurt to try._ He turned this over in his mind.  _I've got nothing to lose._

 _Wrong,_  said another part of his mind.  _You've got quite a lot to lose. You have a job here, and friends._

 _One friend,_ Harry corrected.  _And he barely acknowledges our relationship. It's hardly a friendship._

_Yet you have stood by him._

_Merlin knows why I have; he's a right git._ Harry rolled his eyes.

_He wants you as a friend._

"He's already got me as one," Harry concluded, murmuring the statement under his breath.

So Harry was torn. Should he stay in this time, now that it felt a bit like home? Or should he try to go back to his real home, knowing the risk of trying?

"I don't know!" Harry smashed his fists onto the table. He clenched his teeth and some tears were forming in the corners of his eyes from frustration.

"I don't want to leave," Harry breathed. "It's safe here. Voldemort doesn't know who I am; he isn't trying to kill me. I'm normal here. I'm just like everyone else. " He sat down in a chair, rested his forehead in his hands, and closed his eyes.

 _It's never been this way. I've never been safe from harm. Snape's never been kind to me. Now that I'm just me, just Harry. I don't want to go back. I don't want to be hidden in the fame and everyone's ideal of who I should be. I don't want to be looked at in the image of my father. I'm Harry. I'm just Harry._ He sat back up in the chair.

_I could stop Snape from joining Voldemort. I could help him. We could look out for each other; it could be different. He wouldn't have to grow up so mean and hateful._

" _But Harry,"_ Hermione was trying to reason with him again,  _"You can't mess with the past to change the future. Something even worse might happen, like Voldemort might gain enough power to overtake everyone for real. You have to think of the future!"_

 _Damn it, Hermione_ , Harry thought angrily,  _I've already screwed it up enough, what's the point?"_ Harry shoved some papers off the cashier's table in his frenzy.

"Everything alright Harry?" Mr. Mulpepper had come in, and gently placed a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Yes, fine. Sorry Mr. Mulpepper. Just thinking a bit too hard." Harry tried to fake a laugh, but it failed miserably.

"Why don't you go sweep out the storage area in the back?" Harry thought this was Mr. Mulpepper's way of saying,  _"Please get out; you're scaring all of the customers."_

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered, and shuffled away to the back.

That same evening, Harry was changing out of his work clothes when Snape's letter fell out of his pocket. He had almost forgotten about it in the day's events.

_D,_

_I have good news. There has been a development on the subject of RL. Today as I was going to Potions, I overheard SB saying something to JP about a sort of meeting tonight near the Whomping Willow. When they suspected me of listening, their voices hushed. I suspect it's bad enough to get them into trouble if they don't want anyone hearing._

_I'll write as soon as I find out something._

_S_

Harry shook his head.  _Really Snape, sometimes you should realize when to stop. Like when someone's secrets are SECRETS for a reason. Remus is fine, as long as it's not a full…_

"Oh no," Harry gasped, "Anything but that." He threw on an overcoat and grabbed his wand.  _Don't tell me Snape's stupid enough to…_ Harry couldn't be sure, and he'd rather have Snape safe, than sorry. His heart was thundering. The sky outside was red. Harry needed to get out to Hogwarts. Now. Mr. Mulpepper had a Floo connection to The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, but Harry was going to have to figure out how to get to the Whomping Willow without running into Remus and without going into the castle. For now, there was no time. He raced downstairs to the shop, grabbed some powder, jumped into the fireplace, and bellowed, "The Three Broomsticks!" There was a flash of green flames, and Harry was in Hogsmeade.

The sky was still red. Good. But how to get to the Willow? The trek from Hogsmeade itself was too far; he'd never make it in time. Fine. He'd have to use the passageway through the Honeyduke's cellar, and that was still an hour's walk. He'd have to run, then. Run and hope that the moon would be miraculously hit by a shooting star and blown into smithereens. Down Hogsmeade he ran, up to Honeydukes and jiggled the door handle. Locked. He ran around back to where a storage area was. Also locked. No matter. Harry pulled out his wand and said, " _Alohomora."_  The door clicked open.

The passageway was cold and damp, and Harry didn't like that he couldn't tell how much time he had until dark. He sprinted as best he could, ignoring his protesting body, which had never worked this desperately, even during Quidditch season.  _Faster Harry, faster,_  He chanted.  _The future can't be the same if Snape's killed by a bloodthirsty werewolf!_

The passageway narrowed, and Harry remembered this meant he was close to the opening in the one-eyed witch. He pushed open the hole in her back, and clambered out.

The castle was eerie and quiet, and Harry felt naked without his invisibility cloak. He scrambled through the corridors, down to the ground level, and out to the grounds. The sky was now purple, fading quickly to black. Harry was panting. A few stars were starting to appear, their twinkles glowing down menacingly.

 _Lupin may already be at the Willow,_  Harry guessed, and tried to run faster.  _Madame Pomfrey would have taken him an alternate route though, probably through a secret passage out to the grounds, one that students don't know about. The Marauders will be coming soon as well,_ and then it hit Harry. He stopped running, just when he was up to the hill where the Whomping Willow's branches could be seen, swinging.

"I really am an idiot," Harry muttered. He had just realized: the Marauders were coming. As in, his father would be there. As in, his father wouldn't let Snape see Lupin transform. Which led Harry to another epiphany.

" _Your father did something Snape could never forgive."_

" _What?"_

" _He saved his life."_

"The life debt he owed my father," Harry breathed. "James isn't going to let Lupin attack Snape. He's going to save him." He sat down and covered his mouth, too shocked to do anything else. But his awe was short lived. Someone was coming up the hill. It was Sirius and Wormtail. Harry pushed himself up again, and dragged his weary body into some bushes.

"Should we wait for him?" Wormtail squeaked, as the pair reached the top of the hill.

"Nah, Ole' Sluggie wanted to ask him something. He said he'd be here soon." Harry had no doubt they were talking about James.

The pair poked the switch on the Willow, and disappeared underground.

 _Good. James will be here soon._  Harry allowed himself to rest easy. The purple had melted into black, and the moon was clear in the night sky. After a few moments there was a piercing howl, and Harry instinctively jerked his head towards the Shrieking Shack.

Snape was coming up the hill now, followed by two companions, Avery and Mulciber.  _No doubt to back him up against the Marauders. Where is James?_ Harry thought, craning his neck over the bushes, but minding to keep himself hidden. Snape also poked the switch on the Willow, and disappeared into the tunnel. Harry's pulse hastened.  _He'll be here. He will. Where is he?_ It took a few moments, but it dawned on Harry.

_James isn't coming._

Harry ran to the entrance of the Whomping Willow and jabbed the switch. His muscles were high on adrenaline, singing with every stride he took. Snape's stringy black profile was becoming more pronounced, but Harry did not dare call to him for fear of attracting Remus' attention into the passageway. At the end of the passageway Snape stopped, and was frozen in horror. Harry took his hand and pulled him back, just as great dark talons slashed the air where Snape had just been standing. They were sprinting back, Harry dragging Snape as their feet flew. There was another mighty howl, but Harry did not dare glance back to see if they were being pursued, nor did he stop to look at Snape. They practically dived out of the passageway, and Harry brought his hands over his face, preparing for a crash landing.

"Are you okay?" Harry finally asked, panting between each word. Snape was unable to speak, his face sheet white. He merely nodded once.

"You're the idiot this time." Harry said, trying to joke, but feeling stupid after such a traumatic event. He waited for Snape to berate him on something.

"Harry."

Never had Snape used Harry's first name before. But now was not the time.

"Severus listen to me, I'm not Harry," Harry said.

"What? Are you mad, of course you're-"

"I'm not Harry." Harry repeated. "I'm James." Snape's eyes narrowed.

"What? Look at me," he demanded.

"No. I'm James. Get out of here. Sirius will be coming. Go. Run."

"What did you say?" This voice was not Snape's, but Harry had heard it before, in a bathroom. It was James. Harry looked up at his father.

"Go," Harry barked at Snape, who gave him a calculating look, but got up and did as Harry ordered. At the bottom of the hill he turned around and stared at Harry, as if he wanted to say something. Avery and Mulciber, who had been watching, guarded his back, and they started back up to the castle.

"You look just like me," James stated, drawing Harry's attention back.

"The similarities are uncanny," Harry joked, though he noticed that his father's demeanor was not kind, probably because Harry had been so friendly around Snape.

"Why did you pretend to be me?" James questioned, drawing his wand and leveling himself for an attack. Harry did not think.

He bolted for the forest, throwing his head back to check for any spells that may have been fired towards him, but there was none. He kept running, despite the ache growing in his calves. He was being chased. He could tell from the crashing of limbs and crunching of leaves behind him that he was not alone.

But something was off. The crunches were far too frequent and badly timed to be from one pursuer. So there were two. Harry's first thought was that Sirius had teamed up with James, but there was no way. Sirius would not have left Remus so quickly, and he would have been disguised as Padfoot. A dog would be much more stealthy than Harry's pursuers. Then the answer was obvious, wasn't it?

Some undergrowth caught Harry's leg and he toppled over. His wand slipped out of his hand rolled a foot from his reach. Harry's body twitched and flung itself after it, but was stopped by a throaty,  _"Impedimenta!"_

"Hello Dudley," said Avery. "Didn't think you'd be seeing us again, did you?" Harry grit his teeth and shook, trying to break the spell.

"Look Mulciber, he's trying to fight back!" He laughed again, the obnoxious and abominable sound. Harry was inching closer and closer until he could feel the wood of his wand on the tip of his index finger. With a quick wave, Harry was free and on his feet again, throwing hexes and curses between the two men.

Red flashes, yellow, white; Harry was blinded and barely keeping up. He had been so long without a fight he felt sluggish and rusty; he thanked Merlin for having so much adrenaline in his system.

Blue flashes, purple, orange; Harry's head felt no longer attached to his body, like he was spinning in a tornado, watching for the next move.

Lights were dancing about Harry's eyes and he remembered as a child, watching Dudley play with some firecrackers, and how they had exploded so brilliantly in the sky. This was one in the same, but the firecrackers were so close, like stars Harry could almost touch.

Harry miscalculated one of the stars. A flash of green light, and Harry's navel pulled him into nothingness.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry's head was on the hard dungeon floor; Hermione and Ron were bent over him.

"Harry! Oh Harry, are you alright?" Hermione was on the brink of tears.

"You went out for a sec, mate," Ron helped Harry sit up.

"Professor Snape's furious with Neville, they're in his office right now." Hermione hugged him. "We were worried, your head hit the floor and you blacked out!"

"I'm fine Hermione," Harry reassured her. "It's kind of a blank though. What happened?"

"Neville's potion exploded all over you! Thought you might have been dead," Ron exclaimed, waving his hands. Hermione punched him in the side.

"Ronald! If Harry had been hurt Neville and Professor Snape could have gotten into big trouble!" Hermione turned to Harry. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine, guys, don't worry," Harry felt the back of his head. A lump was starting to form. "I just can't really remember what happened." Hermione and Ron looked at each other.

"In here, Potter." Professor Snape had finished with Neville, who left his office red-faced, and cheeks stained with tears. Harry passed him, heard whimpering noises, and felt a surge of anger at Snape, for bullying Neville over an accident. Harry went into Snape's office and waited for an instruction.

"Sit, Potter." Professor Snape was examining the back of Harry's head. His tone was serious, but not unfriendly.

"Are you well?" He asked, going over to a shelf and pulling off a Deflating Draught.

"I think so sir, I can't really remember what happened." Snape suddenly froze where he stood, like Harry had hit him with a  _Petrificus Totalus_.

"Nothing?" Snape questioned, and his eyebrows furrowed.

"Oh, don't be mad with Neville, Professor, he didn't mean it," Harry pleaded.  _More like you intimidated him and he did it on accident. You're probably mad you could have lost your job over this incident._ "It hasn't done any harm."

"I beg to differ, Potter. It has caused quite a bit of harm." Snape clenched the potion bottle and thrust it in Harry's hands.

Quite a bit indeed.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry was so confused. He couldn't remember anything that had happened the day of the potion accident, but he knew there was something. It was like having a great dream; then trying to tell it to a friend, only to discover you could not recall what happened. But there was something.

Snape had returned to his surly, greasy, git-of-a-self, without any trace of the (almost) kindness he had showed Harry. In fact, he didn't speak to Harry at all, unless he was subtracting points, and even then he would refrain from looking in Harry's direction. So Harry knew, yes, something went on that he couldn't remember.

But Ron and Hermione asserted that nothing had gone on. The potion exploded, sprayed Harry, he blacked out, Snape scolded Neville, Harry woke up, and Snape cleaned up the mess. But that wasn't right either. Harry would know when the story was straight, and that particular one did not sit correctly in his mind.

At the breakfast table, Hermione had her nose wedged between the pages of a particularly thick potion text. Ron was busy shoveling bacon and eggs into his mouth. Harry snuck a peek at the Head Table. Snape was glaring down at his food, kneading his temple. His head jerked after a few seconds of Harry studying him. His eyes scanned the crowd and locked with Harry's.

There was that look again.

Snape did not seem angry with Harry. For a moment, his face softened slightly, and then went blank.

"What's wrong with Snape?" Harry asked. Hermione paused her reading and marked her line with a finger. She looked over at Snape, who had resumed staring down his food.

"He looks the same as usual. Is everything all right Harry? You've been asking about him an awful lot since the Potions accident." Harry averted his gaze from the Potion's Master and returned to his friends.

"Maybe Umbridge's looking to get him sacked," Ron joked.

"No, I don't think so," Harry said. "She'd be interrupting classes and asking questions."

"She could have heard about the accident," Hermione suggested, returning to her studying. Ron shook his head in disbelief at their friend.

"Hermione, do you ever stop reading?" Ron questioned, incredulous. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"I'm studying. You two would do well to start studying too. OWLs are coming up soon, an I won't be helping you at midnight the night before they begin." Hermione's tone was so serious, for a moment she looked like a young Professor McGonagall.

"Come on Hermione, we'll be fine!" Ron addressed Harry. "Won't we?" Harry smiled in response. Hermione rolled her eyes and turned them downcast to her book again. The bell signaling the end of breakfast rang, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off for their classes.

History of Magic was stuffy and the shades on each window were drawn. Students struggled to stay awake with the droning of Professor Binns, lecturing on the 1900 Goblin Rebellion, and soon Harry had joined his classmates in dreamland.

Harry had a very strange dream. He dreamed that he was in Slytherin House, sharing a dormitory with two awful boys named Avery and Mulciber. There was another boy in the dormitory with them, but Harry did not see him. The boy's trunk was ragged and half patched, like it was an extremely old hand-me-down. Before the boy could enter the dream, Harry was shook awake by Ron.

"Hey, the period's over, Ron said. Harry yawned. "Want to go out to Hagrid's?" Ron asked, as Harry gathered his books. "He hasn't heard the latest about your Potion's fiasco. Besides," he and Harry exited the classroom, "I think he needs some cheering up. Umbridge's been on his case."

"She can't get rid of Hagrid. He's the gamekeeper," Harry protested.

"She might try. At least try and stop him from teaching…" Harry and Ron hopped down a staircase to the entrance to the Great Hall, and walked out onto the grounds. Hagrid was out sitting on the stairs to his great hut, polishing some arrows for his crossbow. When he saw Harry and Ron coming he gave a great wave that might have bent a few trees with the force of its wind.

"Afternoon Harry, Ron!" He called, his voice booming. Harry and Ron sprinted down to him.

"Hi Hagrid," Harry said.

"What brings the two of yeh here?" Hagrid asked, resuming the polishing.

"No occasion," Ron answered, sitting on a rock near Hagrid's door. Fang appeared from behind Hagrid and settled himself in the center of the trio. "You haven't heard the latest, Hagrid! Harry had an accident in Potions earlier this week. Too bad Umbridge wasn't there to see, she might've sacked Snape!" Hagrid gave Ron a reproachful look, and opened his mouth to reprimand him about insulting the Potion's Master, when Harry cut in.

"No I think she'd have taken it as a bit of a favor. Probably would have given him bonus points if she found out about the memory blank." Harry rubbed the back of his head. A lump was starting to heal where his skull had made contact with the dungeon floor.

"Ah, nothing happened Harry, we told you that." Ron picked a blade of grass and was rolling it under his fingers.

"Feels like I'm missing something, though," Harry murmured. "Hagrid, what's wrong with Snape lately?"

"What do yeh mean? Nothing's wrong with him, at least as far as I could tell."

"Maybe it's because of the private lessons." Harry knew Ron was referring to the Occlumency lessons. "You should go ask him to help again. Can't hurt. Dumbledore would back you up." Ron sat up and pointed his finger suddenly.

"Maybe that's why you feel strange! Maybe its… well… you know (who)… doing stuff in your head!"

"I don't think so," Harry countered, and Ron slacked again. "I would know if that happened. It's different. There's a big blank." Ron shrugged in response. They sat outside in silence, other than Hagrid's whistling, until Hagrid finally spoke up.

"Yeh need to get back up to the castle. S'getting late," he put down the crossbow and Fang jerked to attention. "I'll walk yeh up. Come on." Harry and Ron followed him up to the castle entrance.

"Take care, Hagrid," they called, as they left him.

_"Stop!" A woman shrieked in terror, and Harry felt himself lash at her, drawing blood by her neck. "Please don't hurt me!" There was a shrill, cold cackle. Dark robes were engulfing the extremities of Harry's vision, with the bleeding woman in front of him. Her arms were shielding her face, and she was curled defensively against a stone corner in what appeared to be a dungeon or cellar. Her dress was torn and dirty with grime and blood. She screamed as a wand was raised before her. There was a flash of green light, and she ceased moving, her glassy eyes staring blankly into the darkness._

Harry jolted awake. The bed creaked with the sudden movement, and he gasped as a rush of cold air permeated his sweat-drenched clothing. Ron was across the room, still asleep, as were Dean, Seamus, and Neville. Harry grabbed his invisibility cloak and ghosted himself out of the dormitory.

Fresh, cool night air refreshed his lungs in the corridor. His head was searing. Snape had always told him in Occlumency lessons to clear his mind of emotion.  _That was all fine and dandy, but what do you do when someone's already gotten in your head? Clear my mind, clear my mind._ Harry squinted his eyes in frustration.  _Right then, that's not going to help. I'll just go for a walk, that'll clear my head._ He wandered around the corridor until his headache seemed to lessen. Or maybe he had gotten accustomed to the pain.

Harry silently made his way back to the portrait of the Fat Lady. However, when he was almost up the staircase to the painting, he noticed something. The Fat Lady was gone. Cursing under his breath, and scar beginning to throb again, Harry seated himself by the painting and waited for her to return. He nodded off after a while.

_Another woman was screaming, huddled against a street lamp._

_"Please! Go away! What do you want?" She looked too much like Mrs. Weasley for Harry to bear. The shrill laugh pierced Harry's temple. "What is it you want from-" Another flash of emerald light, and she was dead in the street._

Harry was going to be sick. Voldemort had killed before, and Harry had experienced dreams similar to these, but never had he witnessed the torture and hate. Voldemort was on a killing spree, and Harry had a front row seat. His stomach retched and he fought back a dry heave. There was only one man who could make the dreams stop.

_Snape._

Harry made his way down to the dampness of the Hogwarts dungeons. At a small door, halfway down a winding staircase, he knocked three times, and uncovered himself from under the invisibility cloak. There was no answer. He knocked again, quite more desperately. No answer. Again, he knocked, until he heard a muffled and irate reply.

"I'm coming!" Snape snarled, throwing the door open. His face momentarily blanked when he saw Harry, and then the usual 'Snape expression' appeared; yet he did not meet Harry's eyes.

"Potter! What are you doing out of bed?" His voice almost cracked at the rise in volume, but he lowered it as they were standing in a corridor built for echoes.

"Inside. Now," Snape hissed. Harry obliged.

"Professor Snape, I know you have refused to-"

"If I have refused something then the decision is done. This conversation is therefore pointless and soon to be over, once I decide how many points to take from Gryffindor for breaking curfew."

"Professor, its Voldemort, he's-"

"Do not speak that name!" Snape snapped. Harry's eyes momentarily flicked down to Snape's left forearm.

"He's getting inside my head again. Making me watch him torture people."

"Then you should have thought of that possibility before sneaking around my private thoughts, Potter!" Snape turned away from him, seated himself at a desk, and dipped a quill in some ink.

"Let's see, 50 points for being out of bed, and another 10 for arguing with a professor. Well, I'd love to chat, but it seems the conversation has run dry. Good night, Mr. Potter," he attempted to dismiss Harry.

"What's wrong with you?" Harry whispered. "How can you just refuse? Even you should see the danger of letting him in my head." Snape lightly placed his quill back on the desk. His voice softened, but remained guarded.

"There is nothing I can do now, Mr. Potter. I gave you the tools to fight. Use them!" Snape's were staring vaguely into space. "Merlin, help yourself. You have put yourself into this position. Unfortunately, Mr. Potter, that requires you to put up with some nightmares. I assure you there are worse things he could do." Snape stood from the desk and parted to his private chambers, closing and locking the door behind him. Harry considered his statements, and left, as quickly as he had come.

_"Why aren't you angry?" Snape pressed._

_"You didn't mean it," Harry answered, shaking his head and gazing out at the grounds. " I would have lashed out at someone as well."_

Sweat was trailing down Harry's back, and not because of a nightmare.

He remembered.

The Breakfast Hall was bustling, but a million thoughts in Harry's mind prevented him from noticing any nuances in his environment, not even the friendly greetings of Ron and Hermione.

_Does Snape remember what happened? Wait, of course he does. But does he know what Avery and Mulciber did? And obviously I didn't change anything in the future… I think. How could I be sure? Wait no, that's not right. If I changed the future I wouldn't remember the past. Or the past that I'm from. Not Snape's past. Ugh. I wouldn't remember because it wouldn't exist. It wouldn't have happened. So did anything really happen? Wait, no, it did, Snape's been acting weird and he knows. He knows. Snape knows._

Harry's eyes trailed north to the Head Table where the Potions Master was seated, scribbling something onto a piece of parchment. Harry focused on the point between Snape's eyes and glared furiously. Harry thrust his thoughts out, shouting them in his mind, projecting them at Snape, slapping Snape on his great greasy nose with them. He must have looked like he was going to be sick; he was red-faced and squinting. Snape's head raised and he stared back at Harry.

_You great git, did you think I wouldn't remember?_

Snape looked like he had been punched in the gut. He sauntered over to the Gryffindor table and loomed over Harry. Ron and Hermione looked on, puzzled.

"Mr. Potter," Snape said. "Please come with me. I need to discuss with you… your Wolfsbane Potion essay." Harry nodded once and followed.

Once inside the privacy of Snape's office, he was confronted.

"When did you find out? No, that's not right." Snape was tracing his bottom lip with his index finger. "How much do you remember?"

"Everything," Harry answered, sitting down in the armchair across from Snape's desk.

"So now we must move on from here. What is the best course of action for, forgive me, the future…" Snape wondered aloud, sitting behind the desk across from Harry.

"Does anyone else know?" Harry asked. Snape shook his head.

"Do you think," Harry worded his statements carefully, "Do you think we could continue where we left off? In our… companionship?" Snape took a while to speak.

"I have been contemplating this subject since the incident in class- No, I must go further back still. I have been thinking how to proceed should this situation arise since you first came to Hogwarts."

"You knew it was me?"

"Please, Potter. How could I not know? I must tell you, you are awful at trying to hide in a crowd. I mean, really. 'Harold?' And Slytherin House? It is all so unfitting."

"You never said anything."

"It was not meant to happen. It was unnatural for us to have met in a manner like that. I thought it better for me not to tell you, and hopefully you would never find out or remember."

"You treated me so terribly!"

"And it was right that I did so! Do you think the Dark Lord would have taken kindly to finding out I was almost amiable to Harry Potter? I do not wish for death." Snape paused. "Although I must make an exception and thank you for defending me against your father and Lupin. Especially Lupin, I might add. If you had not shown up…"

"No thanks necessary. It was an awful trick, what Sirius did, I mean."

"I will also add I was quite… proud of you when you told me to remember you as James in that moment. I did not understand until you came to Hogwarts."

"Did you ever look for me? After that night?" Snape paused again, piecing together his next answer.

"Avery and Mulciber returned to the room saying something odd. They had 'gotten you.' 'Taken care of you.' I feared that they had-"

"Whatever you are thinking is probably right." Snape nodded.

"They suspected you of working undercover against the Dark Lord. They thought you were spying. Though why they suspected someone as daft as you to be a spy, I will never understand." Snape smirked. Harry forced a smile at the backhanded joke. There was a long silence.

"Where do we go from here?' Harry asked. Snape was calculating something in his mind again, trying to choose their next move. He finally spoke up.

"We will discuss this later, after some time to gather our emotions. Then we may decide the path to win this war. That is what we must think of, remember that. We are fighting a battle, not acting on what makes us feel warm inside." Harry nodded his head and turned to leave. When he had almost reached the door, Snape spoke again.

"Harry, please come here. There is something important I must say." Harry crossed the room back to Snape.

Snape's wand was in his hand. He raised it to Harry's forehead and whispered:

" _Obliviate."_


End file.
